genocide. on a strip. because the rest of was taken years ago-
fear & anger dominate the bombs. where is your clear mind?
people are people. violence is a crime. where is your compassion?

I am trying to walk this way
north, towards the northern star
but i do not care to arrive at the northern star
I simply look for what is in that direction

I weep with my little pains huddled
like toddlers around me.  
They were so sweet
in their patience with me, waiting
until I was ready. Now I hold them,
their tiny faces giddy with excitement, as I abandon
the ground of functionality for a wilderness
quiet at their side

its in the practice of little devotions
that everything we dig up
can be turned into treasure
or at least a map of where to
or where to not find it

Someone is ringing the bell; I no longer know who they are but I feel the clapper’s reverberation.

I wish you all the happiness of a spring yielding to summer braver, old friend. Please understand I mean no harm.

Things your eyes say:


Your eyes are beautiful, not because of their color or their shape, but because of their gleam as you tilt your head closer and embrace the person next to you.
I know you understand the gift of a small kindness, of a well-meaning "hello,"  and that is why your eyes captivate me with their soft syrup sweetness. They seem doused in sincerity, and it shows. No human makes it to this field of kindliness without crossing the mud moats of pain, but you awoke today and chose warmheartedness' aromatic nectar. And the world reaps its benefit